I’m sorry to say it 'cause I love the guy, but pretty soon this will be literally true. If anyone read last week's blog, they would recall me mentioning NoName's vasectomy. Well, I wasn't joking. He goes under the knife in two short weeks. The one good thing about this is that the entire morning shows gets a week off beginning March 5. Thanks for taking one for the team, big guy.
Tomorrow I’ll be heading to the grand opening of a new club called Vessel located downtown near Union Square. You may recognize the name from all the hype and you’d better believe that the Persian Prince wants to shake his ass on this trendy dance floor. I’m also giving this new hotspot the “Newsom Guarantee” meaning that if you go there enough times, eventually you’ll see Gavin Newsom in a darkened corner, making out with somebody’s wife!
The only highlights of the Grammy Awards show were the soulful, passionate performances by Shakira, Christina Aguilera and Mary J. Blige. Everything else failed the patented “Hooman Consciousness Test,” meaning that I fell asleep while watching it. After the show, I made my way over to the Universal Records after-party at the Palms Hotel, where Universal Music’s new golden boy Matt White was waiting for me at the door. The star-studded guest list at this shindig included the likes of Al Gore, Bono, Macy Gray and Mary J. Blige. I was pretty much awake until I started up a conversation with Jessica from the Pussycat Dolls who began sucking the intelligence from my mind faster than a vacuum cleaner on crack!
Despite all the distractions lately, I still managed to make it to Fashion Week in New York and drown my sorrows in a dizzying haze of bright lights and anorexic models. I also stumbled upon an underground hotspot well worth checking out at 3 a.m. The place is called Siberia, on 40th and 9th in the Hells Kitchen district. The celebrities and characters you can find there are crazy. I swear I saw Seinfeld throwing up in the bathroom and when I got back to the bar, that hot older chick from Sex and the City approached me and offered to buy me a glass of Veuve Cliquot. The next thing I remember is waking up on a plane headed to SFO.
First of all, I'd like to apologize to everyone for that. But if you think that you're having a bad time reading this crappy blog, then please allow me to put things into perspective for you: I might be out of a job. To put it lightly; things have been a little tense over at the station lately. After 10 years of her loyal servitude, the cheapos at Infinity are refusing to renew Sarah's contract. In other words; the Alice Morning Show may end on February 16! I can't believe it, man! I'm gonna have to cancel my subscription to the Spice Channel, trade in my pimpin-ass ride for a used Nissan, cancel all my massage appointments and yoga classes indefinitely and worst of all: hot materialistic blondes won't like me anymore!